


Necessity

by LeapAngstily



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, Monto is actually a kitten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 10:12:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeapAngstily/pseuds/LeapAngstily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Riccardo gets jealous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Necessity

Riccardo is not possessive by nature. He does not necessarily like seeing Giampaolo with other people, no, but he does tolerate it out of necessity.  
  
Tackling Bonera to the ground during training is not a necessity, and neither is the playful scuffle afterwards. Bonera’s hand on Giampaolo’s hip is  _definitely_  not a necessity, and Giampaolo looks far too pleased with himself for it to be coincidental.  
  
Riccardo turns his back to the sight pointedly and jogs up to Abate to pair up with him for the stretching.  
  
Giampaolo pairs up with Bonera, their joking banter continuing all through the exercises.  
  
Riccardo manages to keep his distance until the end of training, deliberately joining a different group for possession practice, pouring his concentration into football. The result is atrocious, obviously.  
  
“So, how’s my favourite drama queen?”  
  
It is hard to avoid Giampaolo’s dark, amused gaze when their lockers are right next to each other.  
  
Riccardo glares at him, kicks off his shoes more violently than intended, and then his hair gets stuck to his T-shirt when he moves to pull it off.  
  
Giampaolo’s hands on his bare skin send shivers down his back as his friend reaches out to untangle his hair from the sweaty fabric. Riccardo leans into the touch with a content sigh once he is free and Giampaolo obliges his silent request by caressing his neck gently.  
  
“You’re not very good at this ‘staying mad’ thing, are you?” Giampaolo sniggers but Riccardo does not mind as long as he keeps rubbing that sensitive spot below his ear.  
  
“Never was mad,” he lies: a soft grumble meant for only Giampaolo’s ears. His eyelids are dropping shut on their own accord, Giampaolo’s fingers finding all the right places, the ones only Giampaolo knows.  
  
“Sure you weren’t,” Giampaolo hums – Riccardo can hear the smile in his voice without opening his eyes – “So you wouldn’t mind if I went to massage Daniele next? Heard he’s having problems with his back.”  
  
“Don’t try your luck,” Riccardo growls, deliberately laying his hand on the exact same spot on Giampaolo’s hip Bonera was touching earlier.


End file.
